


and we do not know who writes the stars

by volunteer_of_hufflepuff



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Post-Canon, Richard Ellis POV, introspective fic, that cross-section between fluff and angst where the love is good but the circumstances aren't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volunteer_of_hufflepuff/pseuds/volunteer_of_hufflepuff
Summary: It is 1928, and Richard Ellis is smitten with Thomas Barrow.On a sun-kissed spring afternoon, a moment where they can simply be in each other's company in York, Richard muses on the state of the world and hopes for a kinder one.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	and we do not know who writes the stars

**Author's Note:**

> a short little introspective barris fic - I hope you enjoy it!

He wants to say that it was destiny, fate, that they met.

In the here and now, in the soft spring sun, it feels like it.

But he does not know: cannot know, beyond his own yearning heart.

Richard Ellis is 37 years old: and in the spring of 1928, he is falling in love.

Has fallen in love, there’s no denying it: completely, irrevocably in love with Thomas Barrow.

Revolutions and uprisings: wars and fires: all that has happened since the dawn of time has brought him to this moment.

Brought Richard to meeting him, last autumn. A young butler: a scorned butler: a butler who he was smitten with.

Thomas Barrow: a fighter - a working-class lad - his lover.

Now, Thomas is illuminated by the late afternoon rays of the golden sun: his black hair is soft, loose of its usual pomade: it is his half-day, and so is it Richard’s weekend off.

No one listens in on the telephone wired to Downton Abbey’s servant quarters: no one pays attention to what days two servants who met months ago coincidentally have off together: two men chatting in a park doesn’t draw much attention, not on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

At the moment, Thomas is feeding the ducks with feed bought from a local boy raising funds for his school for a ha’penny: they are strangely obedient, with only mild indignant squawks when Thomas stops feeding them, however briefly.

Richard is - technically speaking, though no words are registering - reading a book, _North and South_. 

His mother had lent it to him this morning: but after one glance at the front page, Richard and Thomas had both agreed that it was a bit too dull.

They are taking a break after a late lunch at Richard’s parents in a nearby park: it’s small, with coarse grass and a pond full of demanding ducks: but it is lovely, in itself.

And there is nothing better than hiding in plain sight.

Richard likes the mundanity: likes them being together in public and no one giving them a second glance: likes that, if things were different, if this world was a little less cruel, that they could be like a couple, and no one would arrest them.

Thomas tells him that his dreams are a fantasy. But Thomas, who has been cut and punched and chopped up into a million jagged pieces, has been left jaded: Richard loves all his jagged edges, yet wishes that the world had treated him more kindly before they met.

But it is these fantasies that are so crucial, when he remembers that Thomas was arrested, after leaving to dance with another man: when he remembers, that with one wrong person, one wrong kiss, they could lose everything.

Richard watches the sun glint against Thomas’ dark hair, his eyes glancing over the book: it is unrestrained, loose, unlike when they first met.

His shirt is untucked.

A moment of freedom, however temporary.

Richard wishes that the world would catch up with them, and allow for an eternity of this, this delight, their love, instead of these snatched moments they steal away for.

But that’s preposterous: Richard may not have Thomas’ level of cynicism, but he is not ignorant.

Their world is too broken to let them live out their love in peace.

.

That night, tucked in a bed together, Richard turns to Thomas: he is now sleeping, his snores muffled.

Richard cannot help but feel immensely trusted: Thomas is letting down his guard, and it is beautiful, breathtaking.

“I love you,” Richard whispers into the darkness of the night.

Maybe one day, one day, they won’t have to hide.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr ](https://mirrorofliterature.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/mirroroflit)
> 
> comments and kudos and the like are all seen and appreciated!
> 
> with all that is going on right now, I thought I would offer the barris that was sitting around half-complete on my laptop [now complete] to everyone to hopefully bring a small piece of enjoyment to your day!


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